


Consumption

by Stylism



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Anorexia, Depression, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 02:46:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2635160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stylism/pseuds/Stylism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is very normal for a human-being to consume something. Alcohol, Food, Drugs, Anything. The word "consuming" isn't particularly negative, mostly positive even. This changes when you become consumed by something; consumed by thoughts, habits, behaviours. Fact is, a normal, happy life isn't possible when you are consumed by something that is invisible and starts to not only control your thoughts but everything you do. This gets harder once you realise that this certain 'thing' you are consumed by, doesn't actually exist. What if, it's only an imaginary figure, thoughts, behaviours, whatever you may call it, but it still consumes your entire being and is not planning to let you go. What if, this certain 'someone' or 'thing' suddenly becomes your whole existence and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consumption

**Author's Note:**

> Soo, this is basically the first chapter of the fan fiction I have been working on for a while now. I hope there's someone that finds it interesting and well, let's see how it goes. :)

_September 1st, 2012_

 

_Mum noticed that I’ve gained weight in the last few months, she’s decided to cook more vegetables now._

 

_“You need to be careful of what you eat, honey.” she said._

 

_A look in the mirror showed me that Mum was right. I did gain weight. I hadn’t weighed myself in over a year and the number that was shown on the scales was higher than I thought it would ever be. 13.2 Stone._

 

_I had a look through the internet and my ideal weight was something between 10 and 12 1/2 Stone. I was shocked that the gap between those numbers was so big and I was still over a normal, healthy weight. However, it shouldn’t be too hard to get rid of 7 pounds._

 

_I’ve decided to take that first step towards a healthier me. The plan was an eating and a diet plan. As soon as I would lose those 7 pounds, I’d definitely stop with it and just eat healthily over all. Every Saturday is the “weigh in” day._

 

 

_Day 1 - Saturday - 13.4 Stone - 5’’10 — BMI: 26.4_

 

 

_Breakfast:_

_1 cup full fat milk: 64 calories_

_2 pieces of toast: 190 calories_

_Butter and Nutella spread: approx. 200 calories_

 

_454 calories._

 

_Lunch:_

_Half a pizza: 625 calories_

 

_Snack:_

_small bag of crisps: 169 calories_

 

_Dinner:_

_Roast Dinner: approx. 1220 calories._

 

_Dessert:_

_Banoffee Pie: 380 calories_

 

_=_

 

_2223 calories._

 

_Ugh.. This is quite a lot, I suppose. I’m trying to eat less than 1500 calories tomorrow. So, minus the snacks and it’s all good! Go Harry! It’s only 7 pounds you need to lose, you can do it!_

 

________

 

 

6:00 - the alarm goes off. Harry lazily reaches for his phone and swipes his pinky across the display. His long fingers remove the messy curls from his forehead, followed by a yawn as he pulls back the duvet and slowly leaves the bed. It has been so much easier to find an organised daily routine since he is living on his own. 

However, every morning pretty much looks the same: 

 

He wakes up very early and gets dressed in a hoody and some tracksuit bottoms. His first goal, usually, is the kitchen where he makes himself some coffee. _Without sugar and without milk._ While the water starts boiling, he takes one of the granny smith apples from the fruit bowl and cuts it into two equal parts, one of them finds its way onto the scales - he makes sure that it doesn’t weigh any more than 62 grams. 62 grams is a very important number to him when it comes to apples. Only apples, though. 

The second half finds its way into the fridge, it is important that he is not getting the two halves mixed up, one of them has not been weighed after all. 

Harry then reaches for the 62 gram piece of apple and touches it with his lips, carefully almost, before he takes a bite. Only a little one, he doesn’t want to feel like he is stuffing his face with food. It doesn’t matter if it is only 62 grams of an apple, it is about how he feels about it. A small bite usually makes him feel safer, less anxious about the actual eating part. 

Almost absentmindedly, his back teeth are busy chewing on the piece of fruit. Slowly, so that Harry is able to accurately count the movements of his jaw. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6… 21, 22, 23, his mind is counting until he reaches 30. 30 is the number to swallow, so he does. 

Harry takes a second bite and starts all over again, not a single piece finds its way into his stomach until he counts all the way to 30. 

 

_It’s enough._

 

For one second, the curly haired boy focuses his eyes on the piece of apple in his hand, turns it around in his fingers and sighs silently as he throws it into the bin without a further moment of attention.  

 

His internship starts today and he is basically just nervous. He can’t eat that much - at least that are the words he tells himself, willingly ignoring the fact, that he finds a different excuse every morning. 

 

Harry reaches for his cup of coffee and sits down at the table. For a few seconds, his hands are busy tying his curls back into a messy bun, so that they wouldn’t fall back into his face. 

He takes a sip from his coffee, swallowing in equal intervals without having his lips let go of the porcelain in his hand for only a second. 

The liquid is filling his stomach with a soothing warmth and he is glad that something makes the rumbles in his tummy stop. Even if it is only for a short period of time. 

Harry gets up from the chair and takes a cool bottle of water out of the fridge, and again, he empties it in one go and refills it with some tap water at the sink. 

 

Walking into the landing, Harry slips into his shoes and holds the bottle secure between his ribcage and his upper arm until he leaves the flat. 

 

Outside the building, he is surrounded by milky myst. The morning air is still very cold and the dew on the streets and grass patches is still hidden from the curious eyes of the neighbourhood. It is Harry’s favourite time of the day - it is still dark outside and barely anyone is outside their houses, nobody notices him, nobody cares. His pathetic attempts to burn off all the calories he took in the day before are kept unseen, thanks to the misty morning. 

There is nothing the boy hates more than running and still, it is an unchangeable part of his daily routine. 

 

And yes, his attempts have been pathetic. After approximately 40 minutes, his bones are already starting to ache, his legs are heavy and tired and it takes him great force to keep the speed up, feeling flashes of pain going through his whole body as his heart is beating so fast, he is barely able breathe anymore. 

 

Harry gives up and walks back home.

 

_Tosser._

 

Back at the flat, Harry’s routine still isn’t over, though. He slips out of his shoes and goes straight to the bathroom, removes his hoodie and the tracksuit bottoms on the way and drops them on the floor. 

He pulls out the scales underneath the bathroom shelf and presses the power button. When he see the number on it, he swallows hard and tries to hold back the tears in his eyes. He blinks a couple of times and turns around, looking straight into the mirror on the wall. 

 

_Nothing has changed. Absolutely nothing._

 

Harry rubs across the disgusting bulge that is also called his stomach. He uses his thumb and his index finger to pull onto the fat tissue on his hips and thighs and then also uses his second hand to remove the tears from his chubby cheeks. 

 

_There is no need to cry. It is his own fault, only he himself has gotten his body into this state._

 

It has happened in the past that he literally broke down in front of the mirror but he is able to control himself by now. The only thing he can’t fight against are his tears. 

 

His fingers find their way to his chest and push against his man boobs - as he likes to call them. He tries to pull them back, imagining how he would look like without them. The red and angry streaks his action leaves behind was left ignored while he is turning around in front of the mirror, carefully checking whether the fat on his back has gotten less. It is still the same amount of fat visible, though. 

 

As Harry is standing straight in front of the mirror again, he moves his hands down his neck and wishes that, at least, his double chin wasn’t visible anymore. He hates it so much as there was no chance of hiding it apart from, maybe, with a scarf.  

 

After a few more minutes, Harry’s view is completely blurred and it is almost impossible to make out any more than just outlines. His eyes are starting to burn and he decides to end this procedure for today, gets into the shower and turns on the warm water. It is nice to feel the sweat being washed off his body, but he wishes it was that easy to do the same with the fat underneath his skin. 

He is glad that he doesn’t have to look at himself at this very minute and takes some of the shower gel to wash his body. Harry always tries to be quick, he feels most uncomfortable without any clothes on. Even though it takes more time to wash his hair, he is able to blend everything out while doing so. 

His mind only focuses on his fingers, massaging the shampoo into his scalp, his curls twirling around his hands before the water gets rid of all of the foam on his head. 

It is better this way, he doesn’t want to be late for his first day. 

 

Reaching for the towel, he dries his skin and hair and wraps his whole body up in the soft piece of material. 

Harry sits down on the toilet lid behind him, his eyes looking down at his massive thighs touching each other. He bites his lip and tries to swallow the returning tears. 

 

His fingers remove the wet hair from his face, before he opens the drawer underneath the sink, pulling out one of the small, sharp blades that are hidden in there. The other hand rips off a piece of toilet paper and places it onto one of his knees. 

 

Just like every morning, Harry places a fine but deep cut across his thigh, he watches the suddenly appearing red droplets on his skin, before they are running down his legs on either end of the cut. The pain he feels is definitely bearable. Only as the third and fourth cut has been added and the already fading scars and healing wounds from days ago are starting to be buried underneath new ones, he achieves his goal. Pain. Actual, proper pain.

 

He leans back and shuts his eyelids, doesn’t even hold back the tears anymore and concentrates on the warmth, streaming down his face. He uses the piece of toilet paper to dap the blood off his thigh as he doesn’t want to cause too much of a mess on his bathroom floor. 

 

Harry hates pain and he hates the burning sensation the blades leave him with on his skin, but nothing of this is done for pleasure or joy. He absolutely hates himself. He is completely and 100% disgusted by himself. He hates himself for the fat on his body, he also hates himself for his looks and how his whole family has to suffer from his disgusting appearance and pathetic being. His mother has never been proud of him. He has always been the fat kid in his family. His sister has been the skinny and beautiful girl that brought home all the good grades. Speaking of which, she is also studying Chemistry at an elite university. So, what about him? 

 

Harry only sits in London, far away from his family and is interested in Fashion. He is a complete failure and not even his internship could change that. 

 

 _“An internship? That’s awesome, darling. Where is it at?”_ his mother asked once he told her about it a couple of weeks ago. For a short period of time he has actually believed that his Mum can, indeed, be proud of him. He could not have been more wrong. 

 

“ _It’s a Fashion magazine called_ ** _The Runway_** _, maybe you have heard of it before?”_ was his reply and his Mum hung up on him with a quite “Oh” on the other side. She has not been talking to him ever since.

 

Obviously she is still disappointed and Harry understands somehow, but there is nothing he is good at. _Nothing_. Harry doesn’t have any talents, there aren’t any hobbies he would enjoy doing or even be successful in. 

 

His only passion is Fashion and everything that is part of it. He is glad that he found a way into the industry, nobody wants to sit at home forever. 

 

He isn’t like Gemma and has never been like her. He isn’t talented, intelligent and focused. 

 

He is just Harry.

 

Harry, the fat child of the family.

 

Harry, the useless one. 

 

Harry, who eats like pig. 

 

 Harry, the disappointment to the family.

 

Harry, who doesn’t accomplish anything. 

 

Harry, who needs way too much money. 

 

Harry, who should have never been born. 

 

Harry, the mistake. 

 

**Harry, the accident.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading it, you're lovely. ;) Hopefully, I'll be able to upload the next chapter as soon as possible. x


End file.
